


Destiny Pentober Day 13 - Throw More Grenades

by Legacy_Fireteam



Series: Destiny Pentober 2020 - Legacy Fireteam [13]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Festival of the Lost (Destiny), Gen, Sunbracers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legacy_Fireteam/pseuds/Legacy_Fireteam
Summary: The Sunbracers can burn, a whole lot, if used incorrectly. What makes Indra want to risk that pain so badly?
Relationships: Male Guardian & Ghost
Series: Destiny Pentober 2020 - Legacy Fireteam [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950664
Kudos: 1





	Destiny Pentober Day 13 - Throw More Grenades

# Throw More Grenades

###  _Written by Grayson_

There’s something about the Sunbracers that, while it seems like it should be obvious, people don’t tend to consider when preparing to put them on; they are, in fact, unbelievably hot.

Gauntlets that create a boundless source of solar energy, made for wrapping into a miniature celestial object and throwing it with devastating effect are pretty understandably operating at very high temperatures, and the metal it’s constructed from can only do so much to minimize the effects. They  _ are _ built to last, and to be used quite often, but there is simply a point of no return where the heat of the solar generator overwhelms what the gauntlets can handle. That’s where you’re supposed to stop, cool it down, before the mechanisms fail and your hands boil off. Most people do.

Indra, on the other hand, likes the burn.

He likes to feel Light searing against his forearms and cooking his palms just a little bit, just enough to keep the gauntlets going but never too much to push them to failure. Always right along the ragged edge of disaster, never showing anything but pure elation when those warning lights pulse red across his fingertips. He enjoys it.   
  
For lack of a better term, he describes the little jolts of pain as a reminder. His scars are not the only remnants of his past, and there are times when he looks in a mirror and wonders if he ever made it out of that pit; if what he sees is truly him, or just something the Hive have convinced him is real.   
  
The doubts plague him in his waking hours, but they  _ drown _ him in the night. As he sleeps, Indra is buffeted with terrible nightmares, visions of his traumas dancing across the surface of his minds like gently scratching fingernails. He hears himself laughing in his own ear, hears his Ghost berating him and telling him to  _ “kill them quicker next time, meat.” _

It is hell. Even if he is alive, sometimes he doesn’t think it’s worth it to remain that way. Every bone aches, every joint burns like a thousand tony needles tap-dancing in tune across his nerves as they keep step with the crackling of his knuckles. His mind pushes him forward, but his body always rebels, fighting tooth and nail against all the force of will he can muster. He can keep going, but never without the pain, never without the constant barrage of little flashes of pure hurt. It’s nothing he can control.

The Sunbracers, however, he can control just fine. He tells those who ask that the flames are an extension of his will, the heat and Light raging in the confines of the gauntlets fully subservient to his mastery. _He_ dictates what he will endure. _He_ dictates how much he can handle. There’s pain, sure, that gentle burn forever getting hotter. His arms will sting like hell when he’s done. But it’s worth it to have that control he so sorely lacks. To feel a pain over which _he_ is master _._

It reminds Indra that he is still here, still standing. Still alive no matter what has been done to him, no matter how many scars he may carry. Keeps him chugging through the things he needs to survive. That little bit of burning lets him rise from the ashes and prove that he is, now and forever, truly alive.

So when Shaxx shouts down to his Crucible with a hearty command to  **_“Throw more grenades!!!”_ ** , Indra always has a smile on his face. He feels his hands crackle and burst to life as his palm connects with the first of his opponents, their armor seared away as the ‘Bracers begin to heat up.

Oh, he will.


End file.
